M Sellars - Never Burn A Witch

“Well, that’s good enough for me, and I’m bettin’ it’ll be good enough for the chief. He’s the only higher up I’m worryin’ about right now. Whaddaya think, Carl?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Deckert nodded as he spoke. “I got a hinky feeling about the whole deal.”

“Okay. So what now?” I inquired.

“Let’s see…” Ben turned his wrist and glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s five after five now… Oh shit! Man, I’m s’posed to have you home in twenty-five minutes.”

“I’ll just have to call Felicity and tell her to go on without me,” I remarked.

Ben looked hard at his watch again as if by doing so he could somehow turn the hands back by sheer force of will. “No way, white man. No freakin’ way. The red squaw would scalp me for sure. I promised ‘er I’d have ya’ home. Besides, there’s nothin’ you can really do right now.”

“I can cancel, Ben,” I insisted. “I’m really not looking forward to it anyway. You know her father doesn’t much care for me, and I can do without that grief at the moment.”

“Yeah, but it’s family and ya’ do what you gotta. Besides, she’d kill us both. Anyway, like I said, there’s nothin’ more for you ta’ do at the moment. Seriously.”

“Are you certain?”

“Positive. Just let me know where you’re gonna be, and if somethin’ comes up, I’ll get in touch with ya’.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and take Rowan home,” Deckert volunteered. “I’ll hang loose till you get back.”

“You sure, Carl?” Ben asked as he gave him a questioning glance.

“Yeah. No problem,” he returned easily. “Mona’s outta town visiting her sister, so I was just gonna grab a burger and work late anyway. Ya’know, maybe I’ll make a few calls. I got a coupl’a guys that owe me a favor or two. If either of ‘em is off duty, maybe I can get one of ‘em over here on a payback.”

“Good idea.” Ben nodded vigorously. “I’ve got a few markers out there myself. I’ll make some calls too.”

“You guys go on ahead,” Carl ordered and shot me a grin. “Don’t need your wife gettin’ upset… If she’s anything like Mona… Well, you know.”

“Thanks, Deck,” Ben told him as he ushered me toward the doorway, “I shouldn’t be gone more’n forty-five minutes, tops.”

“No problem. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

There are those times when it pays to have a cop behind the wheel. Being in a hurry to get somewhere can definitely qualify as one of them.

Ben dropped me off in front of my house with slightly over one minute to spare.

Felicity reached up and casually cranked the Jeep’s rear-view mirror in a direction I’m firmly convinced the engineers had not really designed it to go. I am also fairly certain that in order to avoid breaking said mirror, the out of specification contortion was something that could only be accomplished by a woman applying makeup while in the driver’s seat. I suppose I should be thankful we were currently parked.

Leaning into the steering column, she frantically brushed what she obviously considered to be a stray hair or two from her forehead and urged them to disappear into the rest of her auburn mane. Still pitched forward, and using only one hand, she spun the barrel of a lipstick with practiced fingers then swiped it across her lips with fluid, almost surgical, precision. Turning her head from one side to the other and inspecting her reflected image from the corners of her eyes, she let out a satisfied purr. Only then did she stuff the tube of gloss back into her coat pocket and return the mirror to a crooked semblance of its proper position. Still, even after seeing for herself, she twisted in her seat to face me and asked, “How do I look?”

“Like a regular Colleen,” I answered. “A real Irish lassie if ever there was one.”

“You didn’t even look,” she insisted.

I groaned assent and turned to give her more than just a cursory glance.

Her fiery spiral tresses billowed out softly to frame her smooth alabaster face. Falling in a silky flow across her shoulders, her hair disappeared in a cascade down her back that I knew reached almost to her waist. A pair of thin braids encircled her crown, neatly held in place by strategically placed, hidden hairpins, until they joined in the back and coalesced into a whirling eddy of loose curls.

She was looking back at me with her eyebrows arched questioningly over sparkling green eyes, and by the dim glow of the map light, I could see the narrow swath of freckles that rode faintly across the bridge of her nose. Her full, red lips were slightly parted, and the corners turned up in a girlish smile. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold.

The sight of her was enough to make me forget, if only for a moment, the horrors I had re-witnessed just hours before. I didn’t realize it until she spoke, but I was simply staring at her.

“What?” she asked and started to reach for the mirror once again. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?”

“No.” I caught her hand before she could assault the device any more. “There’s nothing on your teeth. I was just noticing how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh stop it!” she insisted, throwing me an embarrassed glance as she reached over to straighten my tie. “You’re just saying that because you’re my husband and you have to.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, but it’s not true. You’re beautiful.”

She ignored my further comment. “There, that’s better.”

I reached up to loosen the knot she had just cinched around my throat, and she playfully slapped my hand away.

“Don’t. I just fixed that.”

“I hate ties, honey. They’re too constricting. That’s why I work at home, so I don’t have to wear them.”

“You want constricting? Try wearing pantyhose and a lace-up, metal-ribbed bodice. Aye, now there’s constricting for you. Besides, it’s only for a few hours, so deal with it,” she instructed.

“Okay. So long as I get to be the one who unlaces that bodice later.”

“Rowan!” she giggled then winked. “Keep that up and I think it can be arranged… Now, come on. Let’s go inside before we’re late.”

“Yeah, I suppose the sooner we get in there the sooner we can leave.”

“Aye, would you be showing disrespect to me family now?” she jibed with an overstated Irish brogue. Though she had purposely exaggerated the affectation, I knew I would need to get used to it because, after a scant few hours inside, her normal lilt was going to be embellished with the heavy accent for several days. It always was.

I just grinned back at her and unlatched my door.

“By the way, Rowan…” She looked back before stepping out of the Jeep.

“Yes?”

“Thanks. You look kind of sexy yourself.”

“Club soda, twist of lime,” I told the bartender and held up a pair of fingers. “Two, please.”

The family had pulled out all the stops for this affair. From renting a large banquet room at the Westview Regency, to the open bar and traditional Irish food catered specifically for the party. As I had told Ben there would be, plenty of colcannon was to be had, along with mutton stew, spiced beef, potato cakes, and countless other ethnic comestibles. I had no doubt that Felicity’s mother had been in charge of the menu as she was a phenomenal cook.

Both of Felicity’s parents were first generation Irish-American, born of immigrants. Her maternal grandparents were the ones celebrating the anniversary tonight; for her father’s parents had long since passed, well before she and I were married.

As her mother and father both came from large families, aunts, uncles, cousins and other relations were springing from every corner of the banquet hall; some had even come over directly from Ireland for the express purpose of attending this combination party/reunion. Many of them she hadn’t seen for ages. Many I had never even met. Be that as it may, there was definitely no shortage of red hair in the room.